


Light

by fourletterwordsstartingwithl (hiddleston_loki_lover_au)



Category: Chris Hemsworth - Fandom, Thor (Movies) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, BackPacker!Chris, M/M, Oral Sex, TheatreActor!Tom, dorks falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:37:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddleston_loki_lover_au/pseuds/fourletterwordsstartingwithl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom runs into Chris.  Chris runs into Tom.</p><p>Also there’s coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Protasis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curds_and_wheyface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curds_and_wheyface/gifts).



> Happy (slightly belated) birthday, [Bucky](http://www.curds-and-wheyface.tumblr.com) xxx
> 
> Beta’ed by the forever awesome: [MalfoyLover_1](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/MalfoyLover_1)

 

 

Tom entered the park just as dawn broke through the trees that lined the path he was jogging along; the shards of sunlight filtering through the burnished leaves and landing in dappled plots.  _Festival_ by Sigur Ros was playing through his iPod, but he wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going.  He ran this path every morning.

 

_Deep breath in – hold – release – deep breath in – hold – release._

 

He passed the small playground that backed against the East entrance, close to the tall block of flats across the road and the school not two streets down.  The swings were moving by themselves eerily in the faint breeze; dew dripping slowly off the steel frame.  Tom always found it haunting, especially on mornings like this one where the fog hung low, hugging the equipment.

 

68 steps later and he was passing under the bridge through to where the path meandered alongside the river.

 

The forecast had called for scattered showers with a late cold front when he checked online last night.  He looked up through the trees.  The sky was overcast, but patchy enough to hope for clear weather.  At least until he got home.

 

By the time his steady footfalls crunched along the narrow gravel path that lead into the central gardens of the park proper, A-Ha was blasting through his earbuds and he was humming along, his mind completely on auto-pilot.  So much so that as the path curved around a large stone fountain, Tom was running from memory and did not anticipate the man bent over tying his shoelace to straighten up directly in his path.

_Smack!_

 

Tom plunged face-first onto the lawn, rolling at the last second to land on his back with an _oomph_.  His headphones were yanked from his ears and the dew was freezing against the back of his heated neck.

 

“What the hell?”  He heard the man groan with an accented voice from where he is sprawled out beside him.

 

Tom scrambled to his feet in a flurry of grass and apologies.  “I am so sorry,” he said, bending down and reaching out.  “Here, take my hand.”

 

The stranger is dressed in a similar fashion to Tom; compression pants and a loose-fitting blue hoodie.  Almost the same.  Tom’s hoodie was grey.

 

Tom helped pull him to his feet and dusted himself off while watching the other man do the same.  His hood is up, but Tom can see his hair is blonde.  And long.  Several strands had escaped their confines during the fall.  There was also a fairly significant grass stain grazed across side of the light blue cotton of the hoodie.  Tom groaned inwardly at his clumsiness.

 

“I’m so sorry.  I wasn’t paying attention.  The park is usually deserted around this time of the morning,” Tom said as way of explanation.  He bent over and picked up his headphones and looped them around his neck.  “I’m Tom.”

 

He held out his hand for a moment before a large warm hand enveloped it.

 

Tom smiled and looked up at the other man as he pushed back his hoodie.  He had bright blue eyes, darker than Tom’s; vibrant, sparkling and surrounded by long, thick lashes.  His hair was indeed very blonde, although not as long as Tom had first thought; only to his shoulders.  “I’m Chris.”

 

_Definitely an accent._

 

Tom continued to shake his hand slowly and distractedly, all the while smiling up at Chris’ perfect white teeth.  “C-Chris,” he stammered.  The corner of Chris’ mouth curled in a small smile and he dropped his lovely eyes to their still joined hands.

 

Like someone had smacked him awake, Tom suddenly withdrew his hand and held it against his chest.  “Sorry about that.”

 

Chris smiled and shook his head gently as he continued brushing the loose blades of grass from his clothes.  Tom didn’t miss the blush bloom across his cheekbones.

 

“Well, I’ll let you return to your run.  Once again, I’m very sorry,” Tom murmured and began to reconnect his iPod from where it remained strapped to his upper arm.  He most definitely was not looking at Chris’ ass as the other man was bent over retying his laces.

 

No, he most certainly was not!

 

Chris straightened up again and raised an eyebrow at Tom’s sudden inability to operate his iPod.  Having almost been caught checking him out not 120 seconds after bulldozing the poor lad into the lawn, Tom blushed and jammed his earphones into the jack, grinning like a loon before waving goodbye.

 

Chris continued to shake his head and chuckle, watching the other man jog away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The small bell above the door rang melodically as Tom pushed his way inside the café not far from his flat.  It was still early, so the pale slivers of sunlight that shone through the front window barely illuminated the shop; instead the light was stark and bright from the fluorescent bulb humming above his head.  He sighed.

 

The place was completely packed.

 

Checking his watch, he could see he only had 15 minutes before his bus was due.  After arriving home from his disastrous run that morning and jumping in the shower, Tom had received a text on his mobile from his director.  The theatre he was a member of was gearing up for a season’s run of _Corialanus_.  He had been cast in the eponymous role and was excited beyond measure.

 

**_From: Ken_ **

**_Received: 7:03am_ **

**_\- Tom, we need you to come in for an urgent meeting at 9:00.  Everyone is attending._ **

 

After he had messaged Ken back to let him know he would be there for the meeting, Ken had replied that there had been some changes overnight and that everyone needed to be briefed about.

 

Changes?  He hoped Karen was okay.  Karen ran the costume department and was widely regarded as a veritable saint at the playhouse.  Costume too big?  _Whip it off and hand it over_ she would say with a needle and thread between her lips.  Within minutes, your costume would be adjusted and refitted perfectly.

 

He didn’t press for any further details, opting instead to fret while he ate his breakfast, then while he dressed.  On a normal day, he would generally forego a coffee before rehearsals, but this morning it was needed.

 

The line moved up a place as Tom stood there, still debating whether he would have time to grab his espresso and still get to the bus in time.  In the end, he decided to chance it and moved up with the line.

 

Much to his surprise and delight, the queue moved quite fast and Tom found himself at the front of the queue within three minutes.  He ordered his usual doppio, but he also added a skim café latte` to enjoy after the double-shot.

 

Standing to the side to wait for his order, Tom adjusted his satchel and pulled his phone from the front pocket.  No new messages and still ten minutes before the bus was due.  Maybe this morning’s rotten luck had run its course, Tom thought wistfully to himself.

 

“Doppio and small skim café latte’.”

 

Tom pocketed his phone quickly and made his way back to the counter to collect his order, coming to stand behind a tall man already there, presumably getting his order also.  He waited for just a moment before heat suddenly bloomed across his chest, causing him to leap backwards with a shout.

 

Looking down, he saw he was completely covered in coffee.  His white shirt was ruined and his chest was scalding.

 

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, mate.”

 

_What the hell?_

 

Tom looked up and met Chris’ equally surprised expression.  “Tom?  It’s Tom, right?”

 

Tom nodded his head in exasperation as he desperately began blotting at his chest with a handful of napkins he grabbed in haste from a nearby table.  “Yeah, that’s right.  _Christ that stings_ ,” he hissed.

 

By then, one of the ladies from behind the counter had also joined them with a couple of towels and a glass of water. She guided them over to a thankfully empty table in the corner.  She helped clean up most of the mess while Tom removed his satchel to place it on the table.

 

Chris stood to one side, holding his now almost empty coffee cup in one hand and a packet of sugar in the other.  He hopped from one foot to the other, clearly concerned, but not knowing how to proceed.

 

“Mate, I’m so sorry.  I wasn’t looking where I was going and well…”  He let his voice trail off as he chewed his bottom lip.  “Is there anything I can do?”  It seemed his accent became more pronounced whilst stressed.

 

After thanking the girl and letting her return to her duties, Tom hazarded a glance at his companion.  Chris was pulling his bottom lip through his teeth, an expression of worry across his gorgeous features.  “No, it’s no longer burning.  My shirt’s utterly saturated, though.”  He paused and looked out the front window as it began to bucket down with rain.  He sighed and shook his head.  “There’s no way in hell I’m going to make that meeting now.”

 

Seconds later, Tom smiled wryly to himself as he watched his bus drive past.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m okay, really,” Tom stammered nervously, as he turned the key and pushed open his front door.  Chris had insisted on seeing him home once the rain had petered out _.  I burnt you, mate.  You don’t expect me to just ignore that, do you?_   He had said before holding open the door of the café and waiting for Tom to step out.  They had walked silently beside one another, Tom adjusting the strap of his satchel nervously; his heart had begun to pound louder and louder as they had neared his flat.  He was almost certain Chris could hear it.

 

Tom turned to say goodbye then, only to find himself suddenly faced with a wall of toned chest.  Chris was standing directly in front of him, clearly expecting to follow Tom inside.  Tom could feel the heat emanating from Chris’ body through the obscenely thin pale blue cotton of his T shirt, the lapels of his dark jacket brushing his cheek.  He also smelt wonderful.  Like fresh rain.  Or the seaside on a breezy day.  “I-I’m fine.  I’m just going to—“

 

He was cut off when the sky groaned and it began to pour again.  The small eave of Tom’s flat barely protected a foot in front of his door, meaning that Chris was about to get a whole lot of wet.

 

Quickly, he stepped back and held the door open.  “Come in.”

 

With a small smile, Chris ducked his head and rushed inside, past Tom and into the small sitting room at the front of the flat.  Tom breathed a sigh of relief when he remembered he had tidied the room only this morning, putting last night’s dirty dishes into the kitchen, ready to be washed later today when he returned from the theatre.  _Oh, the Theatre!_   He had been so preoccupied with the gorgeous man now standing in his sitting room, Tom had completely forgotten to message Ken.

 

He lifted his satchel off over his shoulder and placed it on the small occasional table just inside the sitting room.  Across the room, Tom found Chris standing at the mantelpiece over his ancient but very well-loved fireplace, looking at the few framed pictures Tom had on display.

 

“I’m just going to make a phone call,” he began before noticing the entire back of Chris’ jacket was drenched.  “Give me your jacket and I’ll pop it in the dryer.”

 

Chris turned and looked over at Tom with an arched eyebrow.  “Trying to get my clothes off already?” he joked, before bursting out laughing at Tom’s spluttering reaction.  He shrugged out of the jacket and handed it over to Tom, still chuckling.  “I’m kidding, Tom.”

 

Blushing furiously, Tom took the garment through to the small alcove at the back of the flat.  As he went to push the jacket into the dryer however, he couldn’t help give it a quick smell.  It smelt just as he thought it would; rain and that unmistakable aroma of a warm clean body.  It was heaven!

 

 _Jesus fucking Christ, Tom!_ Can you be any creepier right now?  He admonished himself and quickly switched the dryer on before whipping his phone out of his back pocket.  _Yes, it had been a while since your last relationship, but how about we don’t turn into that crazy stalker person just this once?_

 

He dialled Ken’s number.

 

“Tom.  You on your way?” Ken said as soon as he picked up the call.

 

“Yeah, about that.  I kind of had an accident.  I’m going to be late,”  Tom replied, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous hand.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I just had to duck back home.  I-I’ll be in as soon as I can, but I’m afraid I’m going to miss the meeting.”

 

There was a pause.  “Ahh, that’s alright.  I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

 

“Thanks, Ken.  See you soon.”

 

After hanging up, Tom popped his head back into the sitting room.  “I’m just going to get changed out of this shirt.  Make yourself… um, comfortable.”

 

“No worries,” he heard Chris reply as he rushed through to his room.

 

After whipping the ruined shirt off and opening his dresser in search of another, Tom caught sight of himself in the nearby hanging mirror.  The front of his chest was flushed red and he didn’t know if it was from having a scalding hot coffee recently poured onto it or if it was from his reaction to the gorgeous man in the other room.

 

By the way his face looked; over-bright eyes and red cheeks, Tom was inclined to believe the latter.

 

He grabbed another shirt, quickly buttoned it up and tucking it into his pants before running jittery fingers through his no longer neatly styled dark blonde hair.  It was being kept short and tidy ready for the upcoming play, but he normally let it grow out a little longer, the ends always curling slightly.

 

He slowly made his way back to the front room, his mind clearly stalling.  He found Chris sitting awkwardly on the small 2-seater cream sofa in the corner.  His hands casually draped between his knees and his left leg jittering to some unheard beat.

 

“H-Hi,” Tom began with a shaky voice.  “Thanks for seeing me home.  Y-you don’t have to stay, you know,” he continued nervously, not daring to meet Chris’ eyes.

 

He looked up when he heard Chris huff out a short laugh.  “Yeah I do.  You have my jacket.”

 

 _Oh!_   Tom shook his head and grinned.  “I do, don’t I?”

 

Chris suddenly stood up from the sofa and Tom balked a little as he watched Chris walk over to him.  “How’s your chest?  Is it bad?”

 

Tom swallowed and shook his head.  “No, it’s okay.  No lasting damage.”

 

“Good,” was all Chris said, still approaching slowly.

 

Tom felt scrutinised under Chris’ intense gaze.  He knew he was blushing.  “W-would you like a cup of coffee?”

 

Chris cocked his head to the side and smirked.  “Do you think that’s wise?”

 

Tom turned and walked through to the kitchen.  “Probably not, but I’m making one anyway,” he said over his shoulder as he switched on the coffee machine.  “How do you have yours?”

 

“Black, one sugar,” Chris replied from the doorway.  Tom turned and nodded at him with a shy smile before returning to setting up their cups.  He could see Chris had been taking in the small functional kitchen.

 

It wasn’t much, but Tom loved his little home.  He’d done a lot to the flat since he bought it four years previous.  The shabby old carpet had been ripped up and the floorboards lovingly restored.  The frayed wallpaper had been replaced with a fresh lick of bright paint, which opened up the small dwelling and gave it a sense of space.  The windows used to be dressed in heavy old woven drapes until Tom had swapped them for pale gold linen curtains that framed soft gossamer lace.  Tom would sit reading on his lovely plush sofa of an evening during summer with the window open; the curtains billowing in the breeze.

 

“So your accent…” Tom began quietly.

 

“Australian; born and raised.  I came over here about a year ago.  Been dicking around, odd jobs here and there – I have savings, so I’m just having fun.  Travelled right up through to Scotland, but I came back to London because… well, because it’s London.”

 

Tom nodded.  He knew exactly what he meant, because he was the same.  He had travelled; explored Europe, but he had always come back to London.  London was home.

 

He handed Chris his coffee and they made their way back to the sitting room.  Once they entered the little room however, Tom could immediately see there was going to be a problem.  Two grown men, both over six feet tall and one small cream sofa.

 

Nervously, he looked over his shoulder at Chris as he stood leaning against the doorway.  He didn’t seem perturbed in the least.  With a sly grin, he nodded towards the mantelpiece, indicating the photos.  “Family?”

 

Tom knew Chris was doing it to distract Tom’s obvious nervousness, so he chose to play along.  Taking a slow breath, he nodded and pointed to the frame on the right.  “My mother and two sisters.”

 

“Ahh, what’s it like to have sisters?  I only have two brothers.”

 

Tom considered for a moment.  “Humbling.  They never let me get away with anything.  They showed me how to be respectful and in turn, earned mine.  They’re smart and fierce and funny.”

 

Chris smiled and took a sip from his coffee.

 

“What about you?”

 

He shrugged and met Tom’s eyes.  “Luke, my older brother is a real family man, you know?  Got married, had two kids.  He’s happy and grounded and always there for his family.  Liam, my younger brother is more like me.  We’re both travelling; he’s in the States at the moment.  We’re just out there, trying to find our place in the world.”

 

Tom nodded and returned his gaze to the framed picture of his mother and sisters.  “I get that,” he mumbled and took a mouthful of coffee to distract himself from the fact that Chris was slowly walking over to him.

 

“So, Tom.  Have you found your place in the world?”  Chris’ voice was soft and deep; and quite close.  Tom placed his cup on the mantle and turned to regard the man now standing mere feet away from him.

 

“Well yes.  And no.  I act in theatre and I absolutely love it, it’s my passion.  There’s such heart in it; being up there on stage, reciting those wonderful words.  Giving them life.”  He smiled brightly.  “I act because it’s what I love to do, but it’s so fair-weather.  I could find work acting for an entire season and then nothing for a year.  I write to subsidy my living, but I guess I’m still waiting.”

 

Chris hummed and with a small nod took a step forward.  “So Tom, these things I now know about you.  You like to jog, you’re a theatre actor who loves what he does.  You have two sisters and you like coffee?”

 

Tom swallowed audibly and took a step back, bumping into the mantle as he met Chris’ eyes with a nod.  His heart was racing in his chest.  He felt like a deer in the headlights, but willingly so.  Chris took another step forward.  “And what about your work/life balance?  Is there someone significant to share these passions with you?”

 

Tom shook his head and felt dizzy with anticipation.  Waiting for Chris to take that last step.

 

Chris smiled and dropped his eyes to Tom’s lips before darting back to the pale blue of Tom’s irises, but still he didn’t move.

 

They stood mere inches apart.  Tom could smell Chris’ cologne; could feel the warmth of his chest.  Both of them stood drawing short quiet breaths before Tom finally reached out and cupped the back of Chris’ head, pulling him closer.

 

Their kiss was hot and deep, but surprisingly short.

 

Chris grinned and stepped back, his hand coming up to casually run his finger along his bottom lip.

 

Tom, on the other hand was standing stock still, too shocked at his forwardness. 

 

“So that’s a no for significant other?” Chris asked with a smirk.  Tom still hadn’t moved and instead watched as Chris came closer again.  He shook his head and huffed a nervous breath.  Chris cocked his head to the side.  “No, there _is_ a significant other?”

 

“No.”

 

“There isn’t?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m confused.”

 

Tom chuckled softly and stepped forward until their noses were mere inches apart.  “Ask me again.”  His voice a mere whisper.

 

Chris smiled.  “Significant other?”

 

Tom blinked slowly and shook his head.  “Nope.”

 

Chris’s grin was positively feral.

 

 

 


	2. Epitasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's phone gets a work-out...

 

 

It was late morning by the time Tom made it to the theatre, the bus dropping him off two blocks down.  He wrapped his charcoal pea-coat tightly around himself and quickened his steps.  He wanted to get there as fast as he could and out of the terrible weather.

 

Seeing the front of the theatre as he rounded the corner made him smile.  The clouds still obscured the sun, but the light that filtered through shone brightly against the white façade.  The Marquee showed the play’s name in huge letters, with Tom’s name in smaller lettering below it.  Even now, after years of acting his way through more than a few plays, seeing his name up there still gave him butterflies.

 

Tom continued to smile as he quickly made his way around to the side entrance.  Chris had left not long after their brief kiss, the dryer dinging to tell them his jacket was dry.  They had exchanged numbers and Chris said he would message him later that day to arrange a date.  The anticipation was enough to make Tom giddy.

 

He entered the six-digit code into the small security keypad next to the large sheet of brushed stainless steel that served as the service entrance to the theatre.  After it beeped to gain him entry, he pulled it open and stepped inside, sighing happily when it closed behind him; shutting out the frigid air.

 

He made his way through the passageway towards the back of the building, the soft overhead light warming the dark-stained wood panels that clad the wall along the corridors.  Tom always liked this playhouse, with its old panelling and mosaic tiled floors; and it always smelled faintly of smoke, from a long ago fire perhaps, Tom wasn’t sure, but it smelled of history and passion and reverence.

 

He found Ken backstage leaning over sheets of paper laid out on a large desk.  Tom’s eyes briefly glanced at what was on them – sketches for set designs.

 

Ken was an actor-turned-director, but unlike so many who had tried and failed, Ken had actually proven himself quite skilled in both.  Tom had always admired him greatly for his acting ability; watching him on stage when he was fresh-faced and straight out of high school.  He would sneak into London on the tube just to watch him weave his magic on stage.  Tom was already a zealot for all things Shakespeare, but as he had watched Ken up on stage, he knew that was where he wanted to be.  A few years after graduating university and working his way through the theatre circuit, Tom had finally been cast as Puck in Midsummer’s Night Dream with Ken directing.  The play had been a success and Tom had gained a close friend in Ken.

 

When Ken had been approached about directing a season’s run of Coriolanus, he had immediately thought of Tom and had called him up to come in and read for the eponymous role.  Tom had won the role and here they suddenly found themselves.

 

Ken looked up at Tom as he approached and smiled.  “Ahh Tom.  Glad you could make it,” he said as he pulled another roll of paper from a cardboard tube and unfurled it across the desk over the top of the others.  “I was beginning to worry.”

 

Tom rolled his eyes and smiled.  “I told you I would be here, didn’t I?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.  You’re okay, though right?”

 

“There was an incident with coffee.”

 

“Of course there was,” Ken snorted and called out to one of his assistants.  He mumbled something to them before he suddenly began walking towards his office, beckoning Tom to follow.

 

“Last night, Paul was in a car accident heading home.”

 

Tom gasped and watched Ken’s face for some kind of reassurance.  Paul was their set designer.  He was also one of the nicest men Tom had had the pleasure of working with.  Tom’s face must have betrayed his shock because Ken quickly shook his head.  “No, no, he’s alive.  However, he shattered his right femur and had to have emergency surgery last night because the break was close to his femoral artery and there was a risk of it lacerating it or pressing on it, or something like that.  His wife, Lucille called me last night to let me know.”

 

“Oh god,” Tom whispered.

 

Ken scoffed.  “Please.  He was ringing me at 5:00 this morning, already making me take notes and telling me he was sending Lucille down to pick up his laptop.  He may be stuck in a hospital room for the next month or more, but there’s no way he’s going to let me rest during that time.”

 

Tom laughed and sat down in the chair Ken indicated while he walked around behind his desk and sank wearily into his chair.  “I’m going to have to find a runner for him,” he sighed.   “But this close to production, Tom.  It’s going to be a nightmare.”

 

He watched as Ken began massaging his temples.  “What can I do to help?”

 

Ken stopped and looked up with a smile.  “Try not to injure yourself.  I have enough on my plate without having to worry if you’ve stacked it off the stage and fallen into the pit.”  Then he waved his hands, shooing Tom out with smirk.

 

Tom laughed and left the director to his stresses, making his way through to the dressing rooms.  The playhouse was old and had a communal dressing room area as opposed to individual rooms, but Tom preferred it this way as he was able to bounce his energy and excitement off the other actors.  As he entered the room, he ran into some of the other actors on their way out to the stage for rehearsal.  Monica, the actress cast as _Virgilia_ stopped and let the others pass her by on their way out.  “I’ll be right along,” she shouted after them.

 

“Can you believe it?” she said with a gasp while Tom made his way to his station.  He dumped his satchel and shrugged off his coat before turning to her.  “I know.  It’s so tragic.  Thank god he pulled through, but still quite shocking.”

 

Monica hummed her agreeance as he grabbed his script and notes and they began making their way to the stage.

 

Rehearsal ran long, but Tom didn’t mind.  Any time he spent reading Shakespeare was time well spent, he always thought.  The cast had all dragged out chairs from back stage and sat in a circle.  They had read their lines, chatted about costumes and the inevitable opening night.  Before they knew it, hours had passed.  They all began packing up, making their way back to the dressing room to grab their things before leaving.

 

Due to turning up late, Tom had completely missed his costume fitting, unlike those who had arrived on time.  After returning to his station, Tom packed up his things with the intention of going to see Karen, the costume designer.  Quickly pulling his phone out from his satchel, he huffed a disappointed sigh.

 

No messages.

 

Slipping his phone into his satchel, he walked down the corridor to Karen’s area at the back corner of the hall, trying not to think about the weird emotions bubbling inside his chest.

 

“Tom, sweetie.  I missed you this morning,” Karen cooed from behind a mannequin.  She popped her head out and caught Tom’s gaze, her bright amber eyes shining.  She had pins held between her lips and a lopsided grin on her face.  “Be with you in a sec, I just want to get this dart pinned in before my assistant gets back with the new fabric swatches.  Start by stripping, darling.  We’ll see how your new tunic fits.”

 

Tom did as he was instructed and unbuttoned the shirt before slipping it off his shoulders.  Looking down, he noticed his chest was still a little red from the earlier scalding.  It made him smile in spite of himself.

 

“What’s got you all lit up like New Year’s Eve?” Karen suddenly asked.  Tom’s eyes shot up to find her standing right in front of him wearing a smirk on her lovely face.

 

“Oh nothing,” he lied and took the costume she held out to him.  Karen cocked her head to the side and watched him slip it over his head, disbelief written boldly across her face.

 

“Uh huh.”  Her hands ran over his shoulders, smoothing out the lines of the raw silk and down his side to where the hem sat jagged and rough against his hips.  She nodded her satisfaction at the fit across his shoulders and chest before she suddenly dropped to her knees and began pinning the hem, tapping the side of his thigh when she needed him to turn.  “I don’t believe you for a second, young man, but I’ll let it slide for now.”

 

He chuckled and continued to turn like a doll in a music box before she was finished and back on her feet.  The silk was feather-light and felt cool against his heated skin; almost like water.  It was a pale shade of gold and was to be part of his under-armour.  The armour itself was already made, on loan from one of Ken’s friends, but the rest of his costume was being made by Karen and her amazing team of seamstresses.  She tugged on the tunic and Tom slipped it back off, handing it to her with a smile.  She immediately shook it out and walked over to her sewing machine in the corner; picking up and holding bobbins of cotton against the fabric.

 

She started talking to Tom about the other costumes and their current progress when Tom heard the unmistakable sound of a phone vibrating within the confines of his satchel.  He was halfway buttoning up his shirt, but abandoned the task in favour of leaping forward to pull the phone from the bag.

 

**_From: Chris - Received: 3:54pm_ **

**_\- Hey Tom, I was wondering if u wanted 2 go 2 dinner with me on Friday night?_ **

 

Tom almost giggled and had to bring a hand to his mouth to stifle the small squeak that threatened to rise to the surface.  His face felt hot; he just knew he was blushing.  The phone buzzed again.

 

**_From: Chris - Received: 3:55pm_ **

**_\- This is Chris btw_ **

 

This time he couldn’t contain the bubble of laughter and it rang out in the quiet room, causing Karen to turn from her task and stare him down with raised eyebrows.  “Okay, now that is not ‘ _nothing’_!”

 

Tom looked over the top of the screen to look at her; his smile still beaming brightly.  “I met someone.  He’s really nice.”

 

She returned his smiled warmly, adding a wink for good measure.  “Of course you did.  You’re quite the catch, my dear.”

 

He looked back down at his phone and typed out a quick response.

 

**_To: Chris - Sent: 3:58pm_ **

**_\- Sounds great. Did you have anywhere in mind?_ **

 

After hitting send, he slid the phone into his pocket and finished dressing.  “Was there anything you needed from me, Karen?” he asked as he reshouldered his satchel.  The phone vibrated in his pocket and he grinned.  Karen shook her head, still smiling at him.

 

“Not until we get the leather in for the breeches.  You go and have fun.  See you at the end of the week.”

 

He pulled the phone from his pocket as he made his way down the corridor.

 

**_From: Chris - Received: 4:00pm_ **

**_\- There’s a restaurant that I love 2 streets down from where I’m staying. Pick you up at 8?_ **

 

**_To: Chris - Sent: 4:05pm_ **

**_\- See you Friday :)_ **

 

Tom hit send and instantly regretted it.  He loathed emoticons and he couldn’t believe he had actually just sent a text to someone using one.  Someone he was trying desperately to impress, no less.  He cringed and quickly locked the screen of his phone before stuffing it into his satchel.

 

He confirmed tomorrow’s session with Ken on his way out of the building and down to the bus stop.  Leaving the quiet of the theatre and having the bustle of the street suddenly around him was quite jolting and the din alone left Tom quite eager to get home.  It wasn’t until he was sitting down on the bench at the bus shelter almost 10 minutes later that he rechecked his phone.

 

**_From: Chris - Received: 4:09pm_ **

**_\- I can’t wait x_ **

 

 

* * *

 

 

After getting home, Tom quickly stripped out of his clothes and into his jogging attire before grabbing his iPod from its charger.  He was still buzzed from rehearsals and getting text messages from Chris; a run was exactly what he needed to unwind. 

 

He was bending down to pull on his shoes when his phone buzzed with another text message.  He opened the screen and saw it was from his best friend.

 

**_From: Ben - Received: 5:11pm_ **

**_\- You up for getting shit-faced on Sat? Don’t think I’ve forgotten it’s your birthday._ **

 

**_To: Ben - Sent: 5:11pm_ **

**_\- I’m not letting you get me drunk again, Ben. Not after that incident with that cop and the traffic cone._ **

 

He placed the phone on the counter and crouched down to tie his laces.  His 34th birthday was that Saturday and he was expecting Ben to contact him; he always made time to have a night out for Tom’s birthday.  His phone buzzed again.

 

**_From: Ben - Received: 5:14pm_ **

**_\- It was a hat!_ **

****

**_To: Ben - Sent: 5:14pm_ **

**_\- It was a traffic cone._ **

 

He chuckled as he began his warm up stretches.  Benedict, or Ben as his friends called him because ‘ _only my Mother is allowed to call me Benedict_ ’ had been his best friend since university; both of them assigned the same dorm in first year.  Ben had been the big brother Tom never had as well as the push Tom had needed to pursue acting.  Ben was a successful Publicist and was well loved everywhere he went.

 

**_From: Ben - Received: 5:15pm_ **

**_\- Irrelevant to this conversation.  Are you coming with me or not?  I’m hitting the Crown & Sceptre._ **

It _had_ been a while since Tom had met Ben for drinks, and he felt bad for cancelling their last two catch ups. 

**_To: Ben - Sent: 5:15pm_ **

**_\- I’ll meet you there at 9pm, but I’m still not drinking more than 2 pints, you pisshead LOL. I’m about to go for a run. I’ll ring you later._ **

Tom grabbed his house keys and made his way to the front door.  Smirking, he let himself out and started jogging down towards the park.  Two social engagements in twelve hours.

 

Not bad.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tom was pacing.

 

He was nervous.  Maybe a little.

 

Maybe a lot.

 

He strode back over to the counter in the kitchen where his keys, phone and wallet sat staring back at Tom with judging eyes.  Inanimate objects and their judging eyes.  Judging him because Chris was going to cancel.  It was 7:56pm on Friday night and Chris was going to cancel and his phone was laying there with its blank screen and he just knew it was about to light up with a message saying something impersonal: _hey, sorry I can’t make it. I thought about it and I’ve decided I’m not really interested in 30-something theatre nerds with too many books by Shakespeare and floofy hair and clumsy feet and…_

 

The shrill ring of the doorbell suddenly cut through Tom’s thoughts and he squeaked in panic, lurching for his things and stuffing them into his pockets before racing to the door.

 

Chris was leaning against the doorframe with a breathtaking smile on his gorgeous face; wearing blue jeans, a white shirt and a dark jacket.  Tom’s heart skipped a beat and his face flooded with colour.

 

“Hi,” Tom said with a jerky wave of his hand.  Internally, he face-palmed with a cringe.

 

“Hi yourself,” Chris drawled.  “You ready to go?”

 

Tom nodded and after locking the door, they began to walk.

 

“I made the reservation for 8:30, so we’ve no need to rush, we’ll just grab a cab down here.  It’s actually not that far.  Marylebone Lane?”

 

Tom fell into stride alongside him and nodded.  “Yeah, there are some great restaurants along there.”

 

They turned at the end of the small lane where Tom’s flat was and continued along, passing the local Primary School until they reached the busy traffic of Park Road.  Chris was chatting to him about his brother and his latest escapades in America; Tom asked him questions about his own travelling.

 

“I originally left Australia about two years ago with a couple of mates, but after a year, they headed back home.  I decided to stay on here, working the odd job here and there, shooting across the ‘Channel on short trips.  You know, sightseeing, touristy stuff.  I’ve met some great people.  It’s been an amazing experience, but I suppose I’ll eventually have to head back to Australia sometime.  I’m not fussed though.  If I need money, I get a job for a couple of weeks.  Seasonal work is actually easy to pick up, if you know where to look.  Liam is coming up on his first year abroad.  He sent me an email four days ago saying he and his mates were thinking about heading down to Brazil for a couple of weeks, but I haven’t heard from him since then.  Mum and Dad aren’t too worried though.  He’s not _that_ stupid and they chat to him more than I do.”

 

Tom smiled warmly and sighed quietly as they walked.  He felt his body relax somewhat in Chris’ presence.  It was crazy how nervous he had been leading up to this date, but now that he was on it he wasn’t sure why his mind had panicked the way it had.  Chris was talking with a lovely drawl, laughing at his own jokes and catching Tom’s eyes every now and then, a shy smile curving at the edges of his full lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

 

Although hearing him talk about leaving so soon after meeting him had Tom having to quash a stupid fluttering panic deeper into his chest, telling himself he had no right to feel these things.  You’re on your first date.  You have zero claim on this man!

 

Tom smiled nervously as they continued along Park Road, Chris finally reaching out his arm and hailing a passing cab.  He told the driver where he needed to go and then opened the back door for Tom to climb in first, climbing in after him and closing the door.  The driver pulled back out into the traffic, the slight swerve caused Tom to topple into Chris’ shoulder.  He brought his hands up to steady himself and caught Chris smiling to himself as he stared out of his window.  A few moments later he turned and caught Tom’s gaze, holding it with soft, happy eyes that danced in the reflecting lights of the streets passing by so quickly.

 

Then he felt warmth envelop his hand and he looked down to find Chris had laced his fingers in with Tom’s.  “I-is this okay?”  Chris suddenly whispered, his lips brushing the shell of his ear.  Tom nodded and squeezed his hand in response.

 

A few minutes of comfortable silence later, the cab pulled over.  Tom looked out the window and was surprised they were already there.  Chris paid the driver and they both hopped out of the cab, Chris’ hand not releasing his.

 

Chris led him along Marylebone Lane, passing several pubs and restaurants until he slowed them down to stop in front of a smaller, unassuming restaurant; teeming with diners from what Tom could see through the front windows, somewhat obscured by the glare of the passing cars and streetlights.  “Have you been here before?”

 

Tom shook his head and Chris smiled before pushing open the heavy glass door and leading him in.  “You’re going to love it.”

 

The maître d' lead them over to their table and it was only when they reached the quiet little corner of the bustling restaurant that Chris finally dropped Tom’s hand, only to pull out his chair for him.

 

After taking the seat opposite, Chris pushed a menu into his hands while watching him with a secretive smile.  Tom licked his suddenly dry lips before looking down to peruse the menu.  He shifted in his seat and began to fidget, because he knew he was being watched.  He could feel the heat of Chris’ gaze on him, watching him closely; and it excited him.  He suddenly wished they weren’t sitting in the middle of a crowded restaurant and were, in fact alone so he could lean over and kiss him in answer to the loaded glance Chris was directing his way.  Tom felt flushed, a little self-conscious; and very turned on.

 

“W-what would you recommend?” he ventured.

 

Chris smirked as if knowing the very reason for Tom’s sudden interest in the menu.  Without breaking eye contact, he shrugged with feigned nonchalance.  “Everything is good here.  I’ve tried most of their menu.”

 

Tom nodded and looked down at the menu in his hands, trying desperately to will away the blush heating his face.

 

A waitress suddenly appeared at their table and after a few stunted attempts, they managed to place their order, also ordering their drinks.  Tom knew it was the last thing he needed coupled with his nervousness, but he ordered a glass of red wine nonetheless.  Tom was surprised when Chris then ordered a glass of the same, not sure if Chris had ordered it because he actually wanted it, or if he was trying to calm Tom’s obvious skittish demeanour.

 

His radiant smile wasn’t revealing anything.

 

They chatted throughout the meal, Tom becoming more and more relaxed as they spoke.  He even found himself telling Chris about the plays he had first performed in when he was fresh out of university.

 

“And this Ken fellow, your director friend.  He was the one who called you up for this play now?”  Tom nodded and took a sip of his wine; his second of the night.

 

“Yes, just out of the blue.  I was writing a few pieces for a small literary E Zine I contribute to when he called.  Said for me to come down to the playhouse for a catch up.  While I was there, he mentioned Coriolanus and I jumped at the chance to audition.  Two days later, I was offered the part and well, here I am.”

 

Chris rested his chin on his hand and grinned.  Watching Chris’ face light up as he spoke of his acting was in turn making him smile.  Tom didn’t know if it was the wine or the subject matter, but he found he didn’t care.  He was smiling at Tom’s conversation and seemed genuinely interested, so Tom decided to throw caution to the wind and not remain quiet and meek in the corner.

 

After they finished their meal, they decided to walk back to Tom’s instead of getting a cab.  They had time and even though it was quite cold, it wasn’t raining, which Tom silently praised the gods of weather for.  It was almost always raining in London in February.

 

It was only just after 10pm on a Friday, so the streets were full of people and lights and noise and colour.  Chris had already linked his hand with Tom’s when they had first left the restaurant and it thrilled Tom that Chris didn’t hide or shy away from showing his affection.  They weaved among the other people on the sidewalk, joining the tail end of a group using the cross-walk at the end of the Lane, crossing over onto Thayer Street.

 

Eventually, and without realising it, they had unconsciously made their way into the park near Tom’s house, skirting the main path and instead heading for the fountain where they had met rather abruptly days ago.  When they reached it, Tom turned and sat on the edge of the stone wall, looking back up at Chris who came to stand between his legs in front of him.  They were still holding hands.

 

“I really do run this path every day, you know.  I could run it with my eyes closed.  It’s not my fault you got in the way.”

 

Chris threw his back and laughed; the noise a deep rumble in his chest.  “Oh, well I’m very sorry for interrupting your routine.”

 

Tom hummed and looked down at his outstretched hand where it was linked to Chris’, watching almost hypnotically as Chris’ thumb ran back and forth across his palm.  He waited, but he didn’t know why.  Maybe it was some sort of silent get-out-of-jail-free card to allow Chris a chance to change his mind.  Maybe he was allowing his own mind to contemplate what his heart and body were urging him to do, which was to grab Chris by the front of his jacket and yank him down and kiss him; contemplate and ultimately make a decision.

 

In the end, though it wasn’t a decision Tom had power over.  He may look back in hindsight and regret making certain decisions, but hindsight was lovely that way.  And he was here now, in the present.  The decision had already been made.  More than made.  It was fate.

 

So Tom reached out then and took hold of Chris’ jacket, pulling him down and kissing him hard.  Chris let out a tiny gasp when Tom’s hands grasped at the front of his clothing and his eyes shot open in mild surprise when his lips were suddenly crushed against Tom’s, but only for a second; a mere moment.  He had been thinking of a way to subtlety press his lips to Tom again since picking him up from his flat earlier that evening.  The whole night Chris’ mind had been looping through all the wonderful things about the man currently devouring his lips; his smile, his eyes, his laugh, his tendency to blush at the drop of a hat, his passion for his acting, the warmth of his hand, the taste of his mouth.

 

Chris sighed into the kiss and with swift hands, pulled Tom to his feet so they were level in their embrace, but Tom stumbled forward and seconds later, they found themselves sprawled out on the grass again.  This time they were dressed a little nicer, but the grass was no less freezing than last time.

 

They both laughed and continued to kiss, Chris’ hand curling around the back of Tom’s neck to gently pull him in.  Tom clenched his hands into front of Chris’ shirt and shifted slightly, their crotches brushed against one another.  He hissed at finding Chris just as hard.  However, the park where he ran every morning was not the place he envisaged taking this date any further and so he slowly pulled away to sit up on his haunches.

 

“Want to come back to my place?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

After surprisingly finding a cab near the entrance to the park, they hopped in and were back at Tom’s within five minutes.  Tom let them into the small flat and began shrugging off his coat and kicking off his shoes.  It was utterly freezing and as soon as Tom had his shoes off, he padded with sock-clad feet over to the heater, switching it on and turning back to watch Chris hang his coat up next to his.

 

For all his earlier bravado, Tom was a deer in the headlights once more.

 

“Did you want a coffee?  Or maybe a cup of tea?” 

 

Chris shook his head and stalked over to Tom, the light from the dim globe above his head casting Chris’s face into shadow, accentuating his straight nose and jawline.  Tom pushed the tip of his tongue out to moisten his suddenly dry lips and watched as Chris’ eyes darted down to watch the action.

 

He shook with a mad mixture of nervousness and frantic energy.  His mind was calm and clear, but his heart was beating so fast, it was a thrum of blood rush in his ears.  Seeing Chris’ as much affected by this as he was did give him a small semblance of confidence.

 

Pseudo-confidence or not, Tom still found himself waiting for Chris to make a move.  Waited as Chris reached out and gently grasped Tom by the back of the neck; pulling him in and kissing him.  Then he was joining Chris; kissing him back with gasps and quiet moans.  His back hit the wall, but he only brought Chris in against him by taking hold of his hips.  A pleased growl filled his ears and their kiss broke off only for Chris to latch onto the side of Tom’s throat, licking and sucking at a spot right behind his ear.

 

“I wanna fuck you so bad”

 

Tom hummed from some detached euphoric place.  “Yeah?” he sighed.

 

“Oh yeah.  I’ve been half hard since the restaurant.”

 

“Me too.”  A whisper.

 

“Oh god,” Chris groaned and slid his hands down to pull at the hem of Tom’s shirt, his hardness pressing into Tom’s; grinding and pressing in teasing circular motions while he slowly removed Tom’s shirt.  Both of them were panting and yanking at various parts of their clothing.  Tom’s shirt floated to the floor along with Chris’ seconds before he was leaning down to take one of Tom’s pebbled nipples into his mouth.

 

Tom was pushing his fingers into Chris’ hair when the shrill buzz of a ringtone cut through the almost silent room.  Tom didn’t recognise it as his and looked down at Chris; his nipple sitting perfectly between his teeth and a feigned look of innocence on his gorgeous face.  He grinned, gave a quick suck and released it before reaching into his pocket to remove the offending item.  Tom watched as Chris went to place it on the kitchen table when he looked down at the lit up screen and frowned.  Moments later he had taken a step away from Tom and brought the phone to his ear.

 

“Hello?”

 

Tom could tell whoever was on the other end was angry, or upset, but he couldn’t make any words out.

 

“Calm down.  Where are you now?” Chris whispered.  “Of course you are,” he scoffed.

 

Tom suddenly felt extremely awkward, standing half naked in his kitchen with a rapidly deflating erection and an equally half-naked man standing not two feet away, whispering into his mobile.  He ran a nervous hand through his hair and brought both hands to his face to cool his cheeks.

 

“No, no, no. Don’t do that.  Fuck!  Wait there.  I’m coming to get you.”

 

Tom dropped his hands and stepped back to allow Chris to reach down and scoop up their shirts.  “Fine.  Bye.”

 

He felt so foolish.  He wanted to ask who was on the phone, but felt like it wasn’t his place.  _You were about to sleep with him; let him fuck you into the mattress – asking who was on the phone is nothing!_   But Tom couldn’t meet his eyes and waiting while Chris pulled his top back on over his head.  “I’m sorry, mate, I have to go.”

 

Tom watched him stride over to where his coat was hanging, bending down to pull on his shoes and turning back to look at him.  He took two strides back and kissed Tom fast and passionately.

 

When he pulled away, Chris wore a look of disappointment across his face.  Regret maybe?

 

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

 

Seconds later, Tom listened as the front door clicked closed and he was left alone.

 

He shook his head and ran a hand down his face.

 

What the hell just happened?

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna be friends (I have cookies)?
> 
> Come say hello on my tumblr: [fourletterwordsstartingwithl](http://www.fourletterwordsstartingwithl.tumblr.com)


	3. Dénouement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you're your own worst enemy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around to read the final chapter. If you already follow me on [tumblr](http://www.fourletterwordsstartingwithl.tumblr.com), then you're probably already aware of my tempestuous relationship with writing smut. I just hope you enjoy all it.
> 
> As always, thank you to my wonderful sister and beta, [MalfoyLover_1](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/MalfoyLover_1)

 

 

He was married!

 

No, that couldn’t be it.  Surely not.  Tom sat curled up on the sofa, chewing his thumbnail and taking the occasional sip from his rapidly cooling cup of tea.  He tipped his head back and hummed tunelessly at the ceiling; Chris’ one-sided phone conversation playing over and over in his mind.

 

_Wait there, I’m coming to get you!_

 

He glared down at the now cold liquid swirling around with an almost accusing inference before setting it down on the small coffee table beside him.

 

Maybe he was a mafia boss?  Or a spy?

 

Tom huffed wryly.  _You fucking idiot_ he thought to himself with a shake of his head.

 

Saturday morning had dawned bright and sunny as if in direct contrast to Tom’s current mood; which was self-deprecating, self-loathing humiliation.  He was trying not to ponder about how stupid he felt and instead had made himself a cup of tea, grabbed his script and forced himself to read lines.

 

Ten minutes later, he had a cold cup of tea and hadn’t read anything further than _Act I, Scene I: Rome, A Street_.

 

 _You stupid, stupid man!_   He clenched his eyes shut and tried once again to push away thoughts of the previous night.

 

The feel of Chris’ hands on him; on his hips, on his throat.  The taste of him on Tom’s lips.

 

The ringing of his mobile cut through his reverie and he picked it up to see it was Ben.

 

“Hey man.”

 

“Happy Birthday, you old bastard!”

 

Oh yeah.  He forgot about that.  34 years old today.  Pity he felt like doing anything _but_ celebrate.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Oh, come on.  What’s got you all sad and sappy?  Is it because you’re old now?  It is, isn’t it?  It’s because you’re old.”

 

Tom laughed in spite of himself.  “Shut up!  I’m 34, not 100!  And you’re one to talk!  You’re 38!  By far much older, but definitely no wiser than I.”

 

Ben laughed through the phone.  “I think the word you’re looking for is better, Thomas.”

 

“That’s a matter of perspective, _Benedict_.”

 

“Touché, old man.  So are you still meeting me down at the ‘Sceptre tonight?”

 

Tom groaned his reluctance, only to be cut off.  “Don’t you dare pike out on me!”

 

“I’m not really in the mood, Ben.  To be perfectly honest with you, I had a disaster of a date last night and I’d rather just stay in.”

 

There was silence for a moment before Ben continued.  “Do you need me to beat anyone up for you?”

 

Tom burst out laughing and covered his eyes with his free hand.  “No!  I don’t need you to beat anyone up for me.  God Ben, you’re truly a worry sometimes.”

 

“Dammit, only sometimes,” Ben drawled.  “Look, tonight I promise I’ll get your mind off whatever wonderboy it was that broke your heart and make sure you have a good time.  Come on, Tom.  Don’t let me down.”

 

Tom lay back against the sofa and groaned.  “Oooooookay, I’ll meet you at the damn pub.  Just don’t get pushy and start pouring liquor down my throat like last time.”

 

Ben laughed again and Tom could almost see him shaking his head.  “Nope, nope.  I’ll be a saint, I promise.”

 

“Why am I finding that hard to believe?”

 

Ben made a non-committal noise into the phone before they said their goodbyes.

 

Tom spent the rest of the morning pottering about his flat, washing the couple of dishes he had in the sink, wiping down every surface in the kitchen and doing a load of laundry.  It felt almost like therapy.  Catharsis through manual labour.  Once he was finished with the kitchen, he grabbed a clean cloth, some more cleaner and moved on to the sitting room.  He had opened the windows to let in the pleasant breeze through, both loving it and hating it at the same time.

 

By the time he had finished with the sitting room, he had just enough time to shower before his mother and sisters were due.

 

His mother, Diana and his two sisters, Emma and Sarah popped by around noon and took him out for lunch at a local bistro.  If they had noticed him quieter than normal, they didn’t say anything and for that, Tom was grateful.  His sisters were wonderful, but sometimes a little too nosey regarding his private life.  Diana on the other hand was too perceptive for her own good and called him out on his mood as they were slowly walking back to his flat; his sister’s walking ahead, leaving Tom to walk with Diana.

 

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

 

Tom took her arm and chuckled lightly.  “Nothing, Mum.  I am well.”  She looked at him through narrowed eyes, not believing him for a second, but chose to remain silent.  “Ben is taking me out for my birthday tonight.”

 

Diana scoffed and smirked.  “Oh, that boy!  He’s not going to lead you astray again, is he?”

 

Tom smiled and shrugged as they continued down the road, silently blessing the distraction.  He was in no way prepared to speak to anyone about what had happened in all its humiliating detail, least of all his mother.  Even the small amount of detail he had afforded Ben about last night was more than he had wanted to disclose.

 

Maybe in a few weeks once the sting had dulled.  Maybe then, he may move on and forget this whole fiasco in the dating world.  But for now, it was far too fresh in his mind.

 

Once they made it back to the flat and saw his family off, he made a cup of tea and settled in to practice his lines until he was ready to make a start on dinner.  He read for an hour or so before putting the script down and leaning back against the cushions.  Maybe he was blowing this out of proportion.  Chris said he would call, right?

 

Maybe he was married and it was his wife on the phone; the thought made him feel ill.  Or maybe it was his husband; but somehow, that was much worse.

 

His phone buzzed from the coffee table and Tom glanced over as it lit up.  He caught the first part of the message across the top of the screen before it relocked and went dark again.  He could see it was from Chris.

 

He took a few deep breaths before reaching over and unlocking his phone.

 

**_From: Chris - Received: 4:36pm_ **

**_\- Hi Tom, it’s Chris. I’m really sorry I left the way I did last night. I’d really like an opportunity to explain what happened.  Are you free tonight?_ **

 

 _Yes!_   His fingers were itching to type back instantly, but he already had plans and to be honest, he wasn’t sure he could look Chris in the eye right now; the humiliation still at the forefront of his mind.

 

He sat staring at his phone long after it had relocked, not sure how to respond.  Before he knew it, more than twenty minutes had passed.

 

**_To: Chris - Sent: 5:02pm_ **

**_\- No sorry, I have plans.  Maybe another night._ **

 

He posed the last part as a statement, rather than a question and hit ‘send’ before he changed his mind.  Then he switched his phone on silent and got up to make a start on dinner.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Crown and Sceptre was one of Ben’s favourite pubs in London.  It was warm and inviting and popular enough to be busy, but not so popular that you couldn’t get a seat at the bar.  The interior had warm brick and stained wood walls, with mosaic tiled floors a beautiful solid oak bar that stretched from one end of the pub to the other.

 

As promised, Tom arrived just as it hit 9:00pm, finding it busier than normal as he made his way through the crowd of people just inside the door.  He found Ben at the bar; a few drinks into his night already, no doubt.

 

He smirked and made his way over to his friend, who looked up and cheered his arrival.  “Tom!  Happy birthday.  Here, let’s start off your night with a shot.” He turned back to the bar and motioned to the barman who was rapidly stocking glasses onto trays ready for use.  “Jason, a shot of tequila for my friend here.”

 

The barkeeper looked over at Tom with a question in his eye, clearly already acquainted with Ben’s jovial side.  Tom shrugged his acquiescence and took the shot once poured, tipping it back and laughing as he coughed.  Suddenly the thought of drinking enough to forget Friday night had ever happened seemed appealing to Tom and he nodded to Jason for another, swallowing it down as soon as the glass was placed in front of him.

 

Ben watched him silently, tipping back what was left in his glass before hopping down from his stool and leading Tom over to a newly vacated bench seat in the corner.  They passed a group of people setting up musical instruments and he realised there would be a live band later.

 

They sat and chatted for an hour or so, Ben returning to the bar a couple of times to refresh their drinks.  Tom decided to stick with beer only after downing the shots earlier.  He wanted to be buzzed enough to forget the previous night, not become so blind-drunk that he would forget who he was.  Ben seemed to have the same idea when he returned with two pints of frothy beer in frosty-cold glasses and no shots.  Surprisingly, Ben chose not to ask Tom about the night before straight away and actually waited until they were settled and had finished their first beer before asking.  Tom sat staring out the window at the people walking along and wondered where Chris was right now when Ben bumped him with his shoulder.

 

“So, what happened?”

 

Tom grimaced and picked up one of the many cardboard coasters that seemed to litter the tables; picking at its edge with a nervous fingernail.  He shrugged and mentally allowed the barriers he had been desperately trying to hold up all day fall away.  Instantly, he felt a blush warm his cheeks and he took a quick sip of his beer in an effort to choke the mortification down.  “I met him on Monday and I’ve been chatting to him all week.  We went out last night and everything was going well…”

 

Flashes of the cab ride to the restaurant flashed in his mind.  Then the park.  Then back at the flat whe—

 

“And?” Ben suddenly asked quietly, snapping Tom out of his reverie only to realise he had stopped talking midway through a sentence.

 

He sighed.  “And we were back at my place.  We were about to move things to the bedroom when he got a phone call… and then he left.”

 

“What do you mean?  He left _after_?”

 

Tom laughed mirthlessly and shook his head.  “No, we were about to, but he got a call from someone and then he grabbed his stuff and walked out.”

 

Oh god, he was utterly mortified saying it out loud and decided to skol the rest of his beer without stopping for air.  Ben reached out and took his now empty glass from his shaking hands.  Tom smiled and shrugged his shoulders.  “Hey, it’s okay though.  I guess it was better it happened that way than if we had actually fucked only for him to have walked out straight after, yeah?”  The words seemed logical, only Ben knew him and Tom’s tone of voice was anything but.

 

“I reiterate my earlier statement.  You want me to beat him up?”

 

Tom looked at his friend with remarkable sobriety and shook his head.  “Thanks, but no.  Now, go get me a bottle of water and some hot chips before I pass out in a drunken heap.”

 

The band began their set at 11:00pm and Tom sat alongside Ben, not thinking much past the beat of the songs as they rang through the bar.  He recognised some of the covers and they sang along, Tom laughing at Ben when he forgot the words.  A couple of people Tom didn’t know but Ben seemed to joined their table and before long their little corner of the pub was bustling with chatter and laughter and Tom relaxed into at least a semblance of enjoyment.

 

Always, always at the back of his mind though, that persistent little voice whispered.

 

The band came to the end of a song they had all been singing to when they announced a quick interlude.  The sudden drop in activity was quite jarring and Tom found the sudden silence around the table less comforting than he had not five minutes earlier.  He stared down at his fingers as they cradled his now empty water bottle for a few minutes, listening to the now hushed conversations bouncing around him.  Normally, he would be right in there, participating and revelling.

 

But he couldn’t.  He couldn’t be that guy tonight.

 

Being 34 and single was one thing, but to be 34, single and utterly fucking miserable about it was another.  He’d done the friends with benefits thing and knew it wasn’t for him.  He honestly thought this time it could’ve been different.  He sighed and placed the bottle back on the table with a resolute thud.  “It’s been over an hour, Ben.  I’m for another beer.”

 

Ben, who unbeknownst to Tom had been chatting to someone on his right suddenly turned and grinned.  “Stay where you are.  I’ll get them.  This is David,” he began.  “He’s the band’s Manager and wouldn’t you know it, they’re looking for a new Publicist.  Ha!”

 

Tom snickered in disbelief and shook David’s hand.  “Why am I not surprised?  Good to meet you.”  David moved out to let Ben stand and walk off towards the bar; sliding back in next to Tom once he was gone.

 

They sat in relative silence while Ben was away, the other people sitting around the table chatted to no one in particular, so Tom didn’t feel obligated to participate more than the odd response or smile.

 

While looking out the window, Tom’s heart skipped a beat when he saw someone he swore looked exactly like Chris walk past, only to shake his head and scornfully berate his stupid mind.  It was then at that very moment that Tom allowed himself to accept that maybe he liked Chris more than he was letting on and that the previous night’s fiasco had affected him more than he would’ve liked and that he really wished it hadn’t ended the way it had.  Embarrassment aside, Tom really wanted to see him again.

 

“So, I hear it’s your birthday?”

 

Tom jumped in surprise at the deep voice beside him.  David was leaning towards him with a small smile on his face; his dark eyes looked almost black in the soft lighting of the pub.  He was sitting quite close to Tom, closer than Tom thought was necessary and he instantly wanted to lean back away from him, but found he was already pressed against the far wall.  For a man who usually towered over everyone else around him, he felt oddly trapped.

 

He suddenly remembered he had been asked a question and nodded almost mechanically.  “Yes, 34 today.  Ben insisted on bringing me out.  I wasn’t really up to it, but hey – one can never say no to Ben for long, you know?”  David looked at him with an expression Tom couldn’t decipher before shrugging.

 

“No, I can’t say that I do.”  He lowered his voice.  “But I’m glad you came.”

 

Tom’s eyes must have betrayed his surprise for David suddenly smiled.  “I’m always up for making new friends.  Hey, here comes Ben with our drinks!”

 

Tom watched David spring up from the bench and race over to help Ben bring over their pints of beer.  He may have been distracted, but he wasn’t completely naïve and recognised flirting when he saw it.  _Did Ben set this up?_ He wondered with a slight frown, bringing up his thumb nail to chew on it again.  Maybe Ben didn’t do it deliberately, but was in his own way trying to make Tom forget.  He scoffed and with a smile accepted the glass Ben held out to him when they arrived back at the table.

 

Tom then quickly excused himself to go to the bathroom before he was invariably trapped at the end of the bench.  Ben caught his eyes and Tom gave the minutest shake of his head before walking away.

 

As he stood at the mirror washing his hands, he decided he would call Chris.  Maybe tomorrow?  Invite him out for a coffee, give him a chance to explain why he left the way he had.

 

And for the first time that day, Tom felt the warmth of happiness spread through his chest, ending in a smile on his face; a true, genuine smile.  He made his way back to the table, weaving through people as they crowded the bar, a bright smile on his face.  He stopped walking and pulled his phone from his pocket.  Chewing his bottom lip, he contemplated calling him right then.  Even if it was to hear Chris turn him down, at least he would know and right then, that was all Tom needed.

 

He was about to dial Chris’ number when he heard it.

 

_Chris’ laugh._

 

He’d know it anywhere, having listened to it more than once over the last week.  Tom’s eyes darted around trying to pinpoint where it came from when they suddenly landed on him.  He was standing at the bar with a man; equally as tall and equally as handsome.  Tom’s heart fell as all the happiness he had dragged to the surface not minutes earlier was suddenly sapped from him.  He watched as Chris leaned in to hear something the other man had said before laughing again, his hand clamping down on the stranger’s shoulder in a fashion that screamed intimacy.

 

The phone in his hands suddenly felt incredibly heavy and he quickly returned it to his pocket before scurrying back to his table in the corner.  Ben stood up when he saw Tom approach, but Tom shook his head and picked up his coat from the back of the bench.  “I have to go.”

 

Ben opened his mouth to say something, but Tom cut him off.  “It’s all good.  I’m just not feeling the best.  Call you tomorrow, yeah?”  His voice was barely containing the panic he felt and was sure Ben could sense it when they hugged their farewell.  The entire time, that voice inside screaming _please don’t see me, please don’t see me_.

 

Tom ventured a quick wave and a tight smile at David before pulling on his coat and making a beeline for the door.

 

As soon as he made it outside, skirting around a line of people trying to get inside, he huffed a sigh of relief and began walking; the constant hum of nearby traffic a welcome distraction from the heady panic swirling in his mind.

 

Chris was here.  Chris was here, at this pub.  Chris was at this pub with someone else!

 

He got to the corner and waited for the signals to cross, tapping his foot impatiently; the anxiety not yet out of his system.  He was still too close to the pub.  He needed to put distance between him and – “Tom?  Tom, wait!”

 

 _Fuck_!  Not fast enough.

 

He bit back a groan, cursing the universe at its gross abuse of serendipity and found he had to forcefully quell a sudden need to flee.  _Fuck_!

 

He turned and plastered a fake smile on his face.  Hell, he was an actor – time to ply his trade.  “Chris?  Oh hi.”

 

A confused, almost hurt expression passed across his face at Tom’s apparent lack of recognition.  But then he beamed.  “This is great.  I was hoping to see you, but then you said you already had plans and—”

 

“Yeah, I did.  I was here with friends and…”

 

“Oh yeah?  Yeah, of course.  I-I just wanted to talk.  You know, explain my crappy behaviour last night.  Leaving you when we were a-almost—” Chris stopped at the sight of Tom’s façade slipping and allowing a small cringe to appear.  “Look, mate.  I’m sorry.  Come back inside so we can chat, yeah?”  He began to lead Tom back towards the pub.  “It’s freezing out here and I left my jacket with Liam.”

 

Tom stopped walking and shook Chris’ hand from his arm.  “Liam?  As in your brother, Liam?”

 

Chris rubbed the back of his neck and had the decency to look chastised.  “Yeah, that’s who was on the phone last night.  He got into a little trouble at the airport and I had to go get him.”

 

Tom scoffed and ran a shaky hand through his hair.  “You mean to tell me that I’ve been upset by your leaving – with no word or explanation, mind you – over your _brother_?”  He huffed at his utter stupidity and shook his head in disbelief.  He felt like such an ass.  “I thought you were married!”

 

Chris threw his head back and laughed.  He laughed so loudly that several people lining to enter the pub turned and looked over.  Tom crossed his arms and waited for the Australian to finish making a fool out of them.  “Sorry, mate but seriously, what made you think that?  Do I look like I’m married?”

 

“Well _…”  I wouldn’t mind being married to you._   “No… but still.  You can’t put this on me!  You could’ve said ‘sorry Tom but it’s my brother on the phone and I have to go pick him up from the airport’!” he responded incredulously.

 

Chris stopped and turned back to stand before Tom with an almost bemused look on his face.  They stood staring at each other; Tom’s heart thrumming in his throat.  “You’re right, I’m sorry, but he mentioned customs and I freaked out, okay?  I didn’t know how serious it was and I thought I wouldn’t want you involved with any of that.”  He stepped closer still.  “C’mere.”

 

Chris’ hand gently cupped his jaw and pulled him in for a quick kiss.  Then he smiled and led him back inside, his fingers laced with Tom’s.

 

Liam was as tall and broad as his brother, though not as handsome now that Tom had an opportunity to look at him in detail.  Next to his brother, he was darker and less bulky, but still a good looking man.  He smiled brightly and shook Tom’s hand as soon as he had been ushered forward.  “So _you’re_ Tom?  So sorry about busting up your date last night.  Passport issues at Heathrow.  All sorted now, though.”

 

Tom balked in mild horror before composing himself.  How much had Chris told his brother about him?  “Yes well, no harm, no foul.”

 

But apparently Chris was having none of that as he pulled Tom to his side and wrapped an arm around his hips.  “Oh no, he’s not getting away with it that easily.  You’ll be making it up to us somehow.”  Tom blushed at Chris’ seemingly casual use of the term _us_.  It sounded nice; rolling off the tongue of his inner voice in a contented drawl.

 

They remained near the bar, chatting to Liam about his travels and upcoming destinations when the band started up their set again.  There was a sudden rush of people trying to vie for a spot near the band.  Chris’ hand never wavered from Tom’s hip, his fingers tightening every now and then; almost like he was checking to make sure he was still there.  Tom contemplated going over to see Ben again, but suddenly Chris was at his ear.  “Do you want to get out of here?”

 

It was like the last 24 hours didn’t exist and they were suddenly back in Tom’s flat.  He nodded on a dry swallow and watched as Chris spoke to Liam.  Within a minute, they were back outside and walking away from the noise and warmth of the pub.

 

A minute after that they were seated in the back of a cab.

 

Twenty minutes after that Tom was unlocking his front door and pushing Chris inside.

 

As soon as the door was relocked, Chris’ mouth was on Tom’s and the only noises that could be heard for the longest time were lush lip-smacks and shared panting breaths as they huffed little clouds around their faces.

 

Chris pulled Tom close and kissed along the shell of his ear, whispering things like _sorry_ and _you’re so beautiful_ between wet presses of his lips.  His tongue laved at the spot just behind his ear, scraping his teeth along the spot before biting down and sucking a lovely bruise.  Tom let a guttural groan escape and his fingers lanced themselves into Chris’ hair, pulling him closer.  His sighs were soft and high; musical.

 

“I still want you, Tom,” Chris groaned into his ear, as if knowing that was exactly what Tom needed to hear.  He continued to whisper in his ear even as his hands came down to begin pulling Tom’s shirt away from the waistband of his pants.  “I’m just sorry my brother’s call ruined last night.”  He slid his hands in and firmly squeezed Tom’s ass cheeks.

 

“Fuck yes,” Tom hissed.  “Fucking Liam.”

 

They started moving as one down the hallway towards Tom’s bedroom, Chris both dominating and following Tom’s every movement.  “Mmmm, you have such a filthy mouth.  What else can you do with that mouth, Tom?”

 

Tom grinned and in a fit of uncharacteristic assertiveness, pushed Chris back onto his bed, crawling over him and reaching for his belt.  The metal buckle clinked as nimble fingers deftly released it and moments later, Tom was dragging Chris’ jeans down his thighs, his boxer briefs following almost immediately.  Tom sighed and bit at his bottom lip as he looked down at Chris’ cock; hard and shiny, curving nicely towards his stomach.  Tom couldn’t help running a finger along the pulsing vein that ran along its length, pushing a hiss from between Chris’ clenched teeth.

 

The last thing Chris saw before he dropped his head back against the pillows was Tom’s wicked grin as he descended towards him.  The heat was the first thing Chris was lost to; Tom’s mouth engulfed his entire length as he pushed down towards the plush thatch of light brown hair that curled around the base.  The heat, oh the heat was delicious.

 

Tom never had much of a gag reflex to speak of and to be honest, always loved giving head.  There was something so powerful about bringing someone to the brink of orgasm with nothing more than your mouth and then letting them tip over like a wave.  Chris’ musk was intoxicating and he inhaled deeply before descending once more.  He worked his tongue at the underside, massaging the frenulum and pulling away, letting his cheeks hollow out as he sucked hard.

 

“Oh Tom… oh _god_!”

 

Chris started to writhe and Tom’s hands grasped his hips to hold him firm, controlling the pace.  Watching Chris lose his composure through hooded eyes was one of the sexiest things Tom had ever witnessed.  He looked wrecked; the very representation of debauched.  Then his breath hitched and Tom heard a broken sob.  He was whispering Tom’s name like a mantra.  His legs were shaking, wanting to thrust his cock straight into Tom’s throat and Tom was so turned on that he almost let him.  Only he wanted Chris to fuck him hard and fast and have his gorgeous thickness spread him open.  His own cock was pressing insistently against the zipper of his pants now and he rocked gently, seeking friction.

 

Tom hummed, running his thumbs back and forth over the lovely jut of Chris’ hipbones in a somewhat calming gesture.  Chris’ skin was flushed and Tom thought him beautiful.  To be fair, Tom was trying to punish him a little, but not so far as to let him anywhere near coming.  He pulled off until only the dripping head was left in his mouth, swirling his tongue and coating it in copious saliva and pre-come.  He lapped at the slit and revelled in the salty bite of pre-come, sitting back to run his tongue along his lips to savour the taste.

 

Chris’ face was covered by his forearm, draped across in an attempt to muffle his moans.  Tom pushed Chris’s shirt high against his chest and kissed his way up his body, pulling his arm away and replacing it with a deep kiss to his lips.  Chris keened and wrapped his arms around Tom’s torso, dragging him over his body and reaching down to grasp Tom hips, grinding them against his own.

 

They frotted like desperate teenagers for a minute or so until Chris became frustrated with the fact that they were still wearing clothes.  He began haphazardly pulling at buckles and hems until Tom stood up to discard his clothing.  Chris quickly pushed his jeans and boxers off the rest of the way and whipped his shirt off just in time to see Tom crawl back over to him, completely naked.

 

“You’re beautiful,” he sighed and smiled as Tom lay beside him, holding his head up by one hand, while the other slowly ran back and forth across Chris’ flushed chest.

 

Tom shook his head and leaned in to lay kisses along his clavicle.  His breath was a faint huff against Chris’ throat. “I remember thinking to myself how gorgeous you were when we fell at the park that first morning.”

 

Chris chuckled and waited for Tom to reach his jaw before swooping in to capture his lips again.  “You mean, when you barrelled into me?”  He ran a gentle hand along Tom’s side, snagging his thigh and pulling it back up over Chris’ hip.  Their cocks, full and hot against their stomachs suddenly brushed together, bringing hisses and sighs to the surface like sips of euphoria.  Curving his hand around, Chris slipped his fingers further in until they reached the tight furled hole.  Tom moaned against his mouth and he grinned.  “You want that?”

 

Tom nodded and hummed softly as Chris’ fingers continued to run back and forth across the fluttering hole, adding slight pressure on every second pass, but not quite pushing in.  “Yes.” he breathed before suddenly breaking away to open his side drawer, returning with lube and a condom and placing the latter to the side.

 

Chris took the tube from Tom’s shaking hands and returned to pressing kisses against his soft lips and gently dragging the pads of his fingers over every inch of Tom’s pale body; all long limbs and toned muscle.

 

When his fingers once again reached the small tight knot, they were slippery and ready to push in.

 

The stretch burned, but was thankfully short-lived as Chris worked him open with a gentle determination.  He kissed Tom’s lips and absorbed his sighs and gasps with loving sips.  Tom hands were pulling and kneading at his arms before dropping to lay heavy beside his face.  Chris worked a second finger in, nipping his way down Tom’s pale torso.  His cock lay happy and hard, curved against his stomach; the skin soft and taut between his sharp hipbones and he had the loveliest _Adonis Belt_ Chris had ever had the pleasure of running his tongue along.

 

Two fingers soon turned into three and it was only minutes later Tom was whining for Chris to _just_ _fuck him_ already.  Chris scoffed playfully and gently pulled his fingers away from Tom’s now red and puffy hole, bending down to place a kiss against the twitching muscle before crawling back up.  “You want me to fuck you, yeah?” he breathed, placing kisses across Tom’s brow as he tore open the condom packet and rolled it on.

 

Tom was panting with a sheen of sweat across the bridge of his nose.  He was flushed and red and his eyes were dancing with want as he nodded his head and chewed at his bottom lip.  “I want you to fuck me hard.”

 

Chris hummed and grabbed Tom’s long legs, pushing them wide and angling his cock at his dripping hole, slippery and puffy and clenching at air.  The first push drew a low rumble from Tom’s chest, the second wrought a sigh.  When the fat head of Chris’ cock finally pushed past the tight ring of muscle and into the delicious heat, Tom moaned long and loud until the tops of Chris’ thighs butted against the back of Tom’s.  His breath was a stutter of short hisses while his hands had taken hold of Chris’ hips.  “Just a minute, darling.  It’s been a while.”

 

Chris massaged soft circles into the fleshy backs of Tom’s thighs where he was spread open beneath him.  He marvelled at how well Tom was taking his cock and he grinned wickedly when he received a small wriggle as a signal to start moving.

 

His movements started out small; a slow slide of skin against skin.  Chris sat up and began watching the push and pull, looking down at Tom where his shiny flesh wrapped tightly around his cock.  Seeing how far in he was pushing in and watching the hole hug each ridge and bump as his cock slid out, until the head caught and Tom squeezed.  It was like the air was being forced from Chris’ lungs and the absolute agony of euphoria it brought with it.  He fell forward, crushing his lips against Tom’s and slamming his hips on a groan.

 

“I thought I told you to fuck me,” Tom whispered against his lips, their teeth clinking together.  His eyes glinted mischievously and Chris jerked his head back to stare down at him.

 

“Mmmm, that filthy mouth.”  He sucked at Tom’s bottom lip, shiny with saliva and red with frenzied kissing before sitting up to change the angle of his thrusts.  Suddenly Tom saw stars and he threw his head back on a whimper.  Chris clapped his hands around those lovely long limbs and dragged Tom higher up his own thighs, pushing his hips forward harder and faster until Tom was reduced to choked huffs and muttered groans of _yes, yes, Chris, harder, right there, right there, fuck, fuuuuuck_.

 

“Touch yourself,” Chris breathed, his voice wrecked and rough.  Tom took hold of his angry erection as it bounced against his abs and begin to twist and jerk his hand rapidly in time with Chris’ thrusts.  “Yeah, fuck that pretty cock.”

 

He reached down and grabbed Tom’s hand as it was moving back and forth, wanting to feel him as he moved closer to climax.  Fucking into Tom’s tight heat and seeing him stroke his own cock was almost too much and Chris chewed his bottom lip as he felt the pull deep in his belly.  He wanted Tom to topple first.  He wanted to feel him squeeze around him from deep inside.  “Ahh, ahh.  Fuck yes, baby.  I wanna see you come.  You gonna come for me?”

 

Tom wailed in response, arching his back and coming across his chest even as Chris’ hips stuttered and the warm throb of his come filling Tom’s ass could be felt.

 

Chris slowed his thrusts to lazy pushes as he rode out his orgasm, using the tight pulses of Tom’s ass to wring his pleasure from him until at last he came to a stop, breathing harshly.  He looked down at Tom as he lay out below him, completely wrecked and with an arm thrown across his face.  After tying off the condom and dropping it into the small bin beside the bed, Chris collapsed onto the bed beside him, running a cheeky finger through the rapidly cooling come across his chest.  Tom lifted the arm covering his face and watched in rapt fascination as Chris licked his fingers and hummed.  He smirked and rolled over onto him, smearing them both in his spend and snickering.

 

Chris broke out in the biggest smile and cupped Tom’s face, kissing him softly.  Tom returned the kiss with an equally huge smile, laughing against his mouth.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The moonlight was sneaking through the gap where Tom hadn’t quite shut the curtain all the way across the window, casting a perpendicular sliver of light across the bed as they lay wrapped together like limpets; a mass of legs and arms and shared breaths.  When their skin had cooled enough after cleaning up, Tom pulled back the covers and they clambered under, wrapping themselves into a little burrito tube of warmth, their cocks lay soft against their thighs and their kisses were languid and unrushed.  Their eyes were open and drinking each other’s faces in silence and reverence.

 

Oddly, it was one of the most intimate moments they had shared.

 

“I feel robbed,” Tom whispered after what felt like an age, both of them creeping along the edge of sleep, yet his mind still wildly awake and lucid.

 

Chris simply hummed his response as he pressed his lips along Tom’s pale shoulder.

 

“You’ll eventually have to leave and I just found you,” he clarified sadly.

 

Chris rolled over, pinning Tom to the mattress and kissing him with fervour.  Arms appeared from their warm pocket beneath the blanket and wrapped around his neck; pulling him closer still.  They went on kissing; only stopping when they needed to suck in lungfuls of air. “Not if I’ve found something worth sticking around for,” he panted before kissing him again.

 

Tom grinned against Chris’ mouth and hummed happily.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A week later, Tom was sitting with the cast after a long rehearsal.  They were all drinking from bottles of water and chatting excitedly about the impending opening night; only 3 weeks away.

 

Ken walked in, looking down at his phone with his thumb rapidly scrolling through something on his screen.  He seemed to finish whatever it was he was doing and pocketed the phone before looking up.  “Ahh, glad you’re all here.  As you know, Paul is getting better, but still isn’t mobile, so we’ve hired someone to be his runner.  He started this morning and has been coordinating with Paul all day, so if you need anything, you can bring it to him.  Everyone, this is Chris,” he said, turning and swinging his arm out as the gorgeous blonde entered the room.  He instantly sought Tom out and smiled.

 

After everyone introduced themselves and made their way back to the dressing rooms, Chris walked over to Tom who had hung back and leant against the wall beside him.

 

They just stood next to one another.  Silent, companionable.

 

Tom chuckled and finished his bottle of water.

 

Chris winked.  “Yep, definitely worth sticking around for.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was watching Suburban Shootout gifsets on tumblr and jogger!Tom was adorably clumsy and I thought, I could totally see him running into Chris and being all shy and awkward and yeah…. so enjoy!
> 
> Come and hang out with me on tumblr: [fourletterwordsstartingwithl](http://www.fourletterwordsstartingwithl.tumblr.com)


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